Ostler: Céspedes' livens up moribund ballpark

Published 4:00 am, Monday, April 9, 2012

I promised my wife I would avoid outdated references that make my column seem unhip (is it still hip to be hip?). But I can't ignore the news from Oakland, that pitchers facing the A's are sweating out a Cuban missile crisis.

If there is apprehension among opposing pitchers about the early long-ball binge of Yoenis Céspedes, it's a good thing they don't see him in the clubhouse with his shirt off. The Bambino Cubano has some seriously thick muscles. He looks like a young Willie Mays, if Mays had spent years power-lifting with the 49ers.

Céspedes' second homer of the season, on Friday, gave longtime A's observers flashbacks to the days when Jose Canseco seemed to be launching golf balls out of the park.

Céspedes' third homer, on Saturday evening, also was pulverized, to right-center at the dead-air Coliseum. This guy livens up the air in more ways than one.

He said he does it without trying.

"He is always going to the plate only to make contact with the ball and hit the ball well," translated Ariel Prieto, the former A's pitcher from Cuba who has been called away from minor-league coaching duties to be Céspedes' translator/sidekick.

That was a great call by the A's. Prieto is warm and worldly, the perfect surrogate big brother to the Bambino Cubano. Prieto's English isn't Churchillian, but he gets 'er done.

"That's a new friend that I have in my life right now," Prieto said. "He's going to feel comfortable right here. For me, it was different. When I came over (in 1995), they didn't do this."

Prieto said of Céspedes, "There's a guy that has a great attitude. There's a guy (who) likes to play. There's a guy coming over here and working hard. There's a guy who is mentally really strong and positive."

My guess is that Céspedes will start picking up English quickly. He seems unfazed by the giant cultural and baseball leap he's making. He comes off as neither brash nor shy.

Prieto said they're starting the language education with baseball terminology. The Spanish word for home run works in either language. It's jonron, pronounced hone-ROHN.

After jonron numero tres in four games, Céspedes said he felt lucky.

"He says even in Cuba he never did that before," Prieto translated.

When Céspedes stood at home plate Friday and watched his homer sail deep into the concrete jungle beyond left field, he did so out of surprise. He wasn't trying to go Reggie Jackson on us.

What Céspedes is is a very earnest fellow. He fits right into the clubhouse, which seems to be less the old Jason Giambi frat house and more the domain of serious students such as Kurt Suzuki and Jemile Weeks.

Manager Bob Melvin said of Céspedes, "He's working to the extent where you almost have to back him off some. He's taking flyballs in the outfield basically the whole day. Working in the cage, taking BP, learning how to study films."

I asked A's hitting coach Chili Davis after Saturday's game if it's too early to get excited about Céspedes.

"You can be excited, if you like," Davis said.

Davis said he liked the home run at-bat that game because "it's important how he got the pitch to hit. He didn't chase early; he forced the guy into the zone. He was aggressive on the 2-0 pitch, the guy tried to get a strike over and he was ready to hit it.

"He's a young, aggressive hitter with some serious power. Pitchers are going to try to exploit his aggressiveness, and the more patience he shows, the more discipline, the better hitter he'll be, as time comes.

"There are times we're all going to be disappointed. He's going to get himself out on pitcher's pitches. Hopefully, he'll learn from that. You're going to see a real good player."

It's hard to tell where Céspedes is, development-wise, which makes the four-year, $36 million contract a gamble. There's no strong book on where Cuban baseball rates on the baseball-hardness scale. Is it equivalent to Triple-A?

Maybe this is not such a big step for Céspedes. Maybe it is, and he has been lucky. The mystery makes this adventure more fun for everyone.

It could be an adventure for team ownership, too. What if Céspedes keeps hitting and stirs up interest, a la Linsanity, drawing big crowds to the Oakland ballpark?

That would throw a monkey wrench into ownership's aggressive campaign to prove that there is no market for baseball in Oakland.

If that happens, A's owners Lew Wolff and John Fisher will have their own private Cuban missile crisis, and they won't be able to solve it by picking up the Hot Line and threatening Nikita Khrushchev. Sorry, honey.